


Sending my love on a wire.

by ladymdc



Series: Murder Husbands™️ [2]
Category: Borderlands (Video Games)
Genre: Aftercare, Anal Sex, Biting, Body Worship, Dom/sub Undertones, Established Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, Fluff, Love of loooooong legs, M/M, Possessive Behavior, Protectiveness, Rhys’ Awesome Socks, Warm and Fuzzy Feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-17
Updated: 2020-07-17
Packaged: 2021-03-04 19:23:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,217
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25321603
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladymdc/pseuds/ladymdc
Summary: Shoulders shifting under his t-shirt, Rhys bent over to spit. Jack’s gaze followed the curve of his spine down to his ass, then his legs and— Christ.What the hell waswrongwith him? Jack wanted those looooooong limbs with thosestupidfucking socks wrapped around him.
Relationships: Handsome Jack/Rhys (Borderlands)
Series: Murder Husbands™️ [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1857106
Comments: 14
Kudos: 125





	Sending my love on a wire.

**Author's Note:**

  * For [swearwollf](https://archiveofourown.org/users/swearwollf/gifts).



> for a great friend & support system; I hope this is in the vein that you were looking for ♥️
> 
> This work is written in the [TCWM universe](https://archiveofourown.org/series/1857106), BUT it is from Jack's POV & filled out/vague enough that it can be consumed as a stand alone.
> 
> From a kink meme prompt: Rhys has to sleep with socks on because his feet turn into ice-blocks at night. Jack accidentally develops a kink about it. Something about it just pings Jack's lizard brain, maybe because Rhys in socks is such an intimate sight.
> 
> Title is lyrics from: [Black Sheep](https://open.spotify.com/track/72hSmnleYTiiOo23q8ZJIS?si=X-r8NKgDQieHyEoEjMSCcw) (Metric)

It had started out innocent enough. 

A way to peel back the years and find the version of Rhys that had faded away into the nothingness. The man who fought. Who cast a space station from the sky. Who ripped Jack out of his head with a shard of glass and his bare hand. 

Someone who Jack had underestimated. He hadn’t realized Rhys’ will to succeed would supersede absolutely everything else. He hadn’t realized how similar they were until it was too late.

Initially, Jack had wanted to kill him for that. Slowly and painfully. He would have made it last. He would have made Rhys regret ever  _ thinking  _ about betraying him. However, it was apparent that he already did; that Jack already owned him.

In some moments while Jack watched him, it had almost seemed like that was what Rhys was really after— his true motive for reviving him. Being alive did not appear to be something Rhys had cared about. He just looked tired. Rhys had seemed to be existing out of sheer obligation. Driven by a need to make  _ something _ right, consequences be damned, and Jack did not know if he wanted to allow Rhys to succeed in using him like that. 

For months, it had felt like a coin toss. As though Jack was continually weighing the options.

The problem had been, Rhys would not just be another corpse for his body count. He would not just bleed into the rest of his dead. He was valuable. It would have been a loss. Rhys was his in a way he hadn’t been while their consciousnesses were merged, and  _ that  _ was invaluable.

It was not until Jack had gotten his  _ hands _ on him that he realized he had miscalculated the full extent of Rhys’ value. That Jack had already gained a predictable weakness. 

Later, it became a necessity. 

Otherwise, he would have kicked Rhys’ scrawny ass out of his bed, and Jack  _ liked  _ him there. 

And now, well, Jack was not sure what the fuck it was. He just knew that there was something about Rhys’ freakishly cold skis wrapped up in those stupid fucking socks of his that just  _ did it _ for him.

Looking back, it was impossible to say how this happened. Impossible to pinpoint the exact fucking moment his indifference transformed into something horrendously significant. And it sure as hell didn’t clear up a single goddamn thing when Jack contrasted Rhys’ public persona with who he was in the privacy of their own home. 

When entirely focused on their empire, Rhys was all hard lines and power, confident and unstoppable. It was fucking  _ hot.  _ It was what had initially drawn Jack to him in the first place. 

It was as if Rhys gave off a magnetic pull, like he was Jack’s true north. He had dragged him closer and closer, inch by inch, day by day, until Jack found himself doing things he never would have even considered pre-Rhys. Not killing Rhys’ asshole crew just because he didn’t want him to. Flying across the galaxy to worry at his bedside like a fucking loser. Merging corporations and sharing that massive empire with someone Jack considered an equal. Choking the life out of some rando for merely looking at Rhys in a way Jack didn’t like before going back to his office to order Rhys a new pair of socks to make  _ himself  _ feel better. 

Of course, Rhys had adapted to Jack too, in seemingly necessary ways, but to him, it spoke volumes because it was stuff Rhys did not do for other people. Not even with large amounts of complaining. As a general rule, Rhys had no issue with the loss of life. It was necessary for ‘the greater good’— something less had to give way for something better, and actions had consequences, or whatever. However, Rhys did not get his hands dirty, and neither was he inherently submissive— unless it came to Jack. 

For him, and him only, did Rhys’ boundaries come down and the jagged edges of their lives locked fucking  _ flawlessly _ together. Jack could anticipate anything and everything Rhys needed or wanted without a single word being uttered. In a way, it made Rhys less intense, with a lightness to his eyes and smile when they were together, and yet somehow also more so at the same time. 

He was Jack’s, and Rhys trusted that more than he trusted himself. There was no mistaking the lengths Rhys was prepared to go to keep that. They had both shown their true colors, more than once, in terms of how they felt about each other.

Jack was not entirely sure how the sock thing fit in there exactly, but meh. It made Rhys happy, and Jack got off on it. 

He suspected Rhys knew this on some level. When he caught a glimpse of them at work, peeking from beneath Rhys’ beautifully tailored slacks, they were very noticeably never the ones Jack had bought.  _ Those,  _ Jack wordlessly stuffed into his drawer with the rest of his collection, and  _ those, _ Rhys seemed to only wear for Jack. 

Tonight, it was the light grey ones with some little chibi ratch thing and pink hearts on them. It was the first pair Jack had bought him. It had been a joke. Something he had secretly crammed into Rhys’ suitcase to simply get under his skin a little. But then the next time Rhys came to Eos, he had worn them to bed, and Jack’s brain had, like, short-circuited or some shit. 

It was sort of happening again as he watched Rhys brush his teeth before bed. The sound had innocently pulled Jack’s attention away from whatever the fuck he had been working on. And now, there he was, feeling more than a little blindsided by this particularly vulnerable display— craving to  _ touch.  _

Shoulders shifting under his t-shirt, Rhys bent over to spit. Jack’s gaze followed the curve of his spine down to his ass, then his legs and— 

Christ. 

What the hell was  _ wrong _ with him? Jack wanted those looooooong limbs with those  _ stupid _ fucking socks wrapped around him. 

“Hey, kitten?”

Rhys hummed.

“I need you to come here.” 

He wiped his mouth off with a hand towel. “Is there something off with the budget?” Rhys asked, flicking off the bathroom light on his way over.

Jack shot a glare at the holo-tablet in his hand, then carelessly tossed it aside. “Fuck if I know,” he said, his glasses following suit. “Not with you bending over and shit in there.”

Rhys raised an eyebrow. “Ah, yes, my master plan. Distracting you so that I have to do it later.”

Jack rolled his eyes as he shifted his weight forward to grab hold of Rhys about the waist. He pulled his skinny ass into bed and shifted on top of him. As they moved, Rhys hooked one of his legs around Jack, making the need burning in his chest flare even hotter.

Fuck, he was gorgeous. His hair slightly tousled, with his high cheekbones and incredible mismatched eyes. The ridges of his blue tattoo peeking out from the v-neck and spiraling down his arm. How Rhys managed to look respectfully disheveled without a seam out of place was beyond Jack.

“You shouldn’t complain. You love working almost as much as you love getting a good Jack-dicking,” he said, voice low. “And I love giving it to you, so really, I’m doing both of us a favor.”

Rhys sighed, a blended sound of content and arousal. “Less talking, more dicking.”

Jack chuckled and nibbled at his lower lip a moment before capturing his mouth. His lips were warm and soft, and Rhys moved his palms to Jack’s face to kiss him deeply. Then moaned as Jack started to slowly grind into him. 

He was wonderfully responsive when he liked something. Feeling Rhys get worked up, listening to him gasp and moan, tasting the desire in his mouth and on his skin. Coaxing that from him always made Jack want so many things at once that it was almost overwhelming— to make him beg, to hear him come undone, to just draw it out and listen. 

But it was easy enough to hit all three points. 

Jack abruptly pulled away and lifted the waistband over where Rhys was hard and heavy between his legs, and then all the way down. Taking a moment, Jack wrapped his fingers entirely around one of Rhys’ besocked ankles. He pressed a kiss into Rhys’ shin before yanking his boxers off and tossing them away. Jack’s sailing through the air in their wake.

Settling between his legs, Jack ran his hands up the insides of Rhys’ thighs and then curved them down and around underneath. He pulled up, bending Rhys’ knees and pushing his legs back until he had a foot planted to either side of Jack. His long legs were splayed wide, exposing every inch of pale skin that Jack wanted to touch.

“Tilt your hips up a bit, kitten,” Jack instructed. The flush of color across Rhys’ cheekbones darkened as he complied. “Perfect. Just like that.” 

Jack enjoyed opening him up; liked making it as much a part of the act as the moment he slid inside. He knew the pad of his finger was brushing against him just right, that his mouth and hand on Rhys’ thigh was dragging his pleasure unbearably close to the surface. This was evident by the fine tremor traveling through his whole body. 

Eventually, Rhys spoke, gasping out some words on the tail end of a moan. “Jack— please. I know you’re having fun, but I need—” he broke off. 

Two out of three, and with that, Jack withdrew; moved to stand beside the bed, and look down at Rhys. 

His expression was beautifully wrecked, and that echoed in the high color on his throat and chest. Rhys was achingly hard. Jack smoothed a hand down Rhys’ stomach, over his hip, before giving him a single stroke from root to tip. 

Rhys moaned, and his eyes fell closed. 

“Do you know how perfect you are?” Jack asked. It was a rhetorical question, Rhys knew, but he answered anyway. 

“Only for you.”

Jack growled. “Tell me what you need, kitten.” 

“You,” Rhys said. “And for you to kiss me.” 

“Well, come here then.” 

Rhys kneeled on the edge of the bed and pulled off his t-shirt. Then kissed Jack with such single-minded dedication, it caught him completely off guard when Jack lifted him. One slightly startled noise later, and those longest legs ever were wrapped around Jack’s hips  _ exactly  _ like he had been wanting. 

Mouth never leaving Rhys’, Jack pinned him against the nearby wall and  _ finally  _ pushed in. Rhys sighed in satisfaction, hands tightening on Jack’s shoulders as he sank further down. With most of his measly weight supported by the wall, Jack hooked his hands under his thighs to better angle him to his advantage. Rhys’ legs locked tighter around him, drawing Jack in, heels digging impatiently into the small of his back.

“I got you, kitten. You know I’ll make it worth the wait.” 

A smirk flitted across his mouth that was lost on a moan when Jack started to rock into him. In increments at first, then more and more, until finally, Jack was thrusting fully in and out of Rhys’ body. Throughout, Jack bit and sucked bruises into his neck. Marking Rhys, making him feel claimed and possessed just as he liked. 

He tasted like exertion. Like want.

He felt like heaven. 

“Ja-ack,” Rhys breathed, digging his heels into his back. “Just like that. Don’t stop.”

Jack was more than happy to fucking oblige, keeping the angle but pushing into him faster, deeper. 

“Harder,” he panted, his metal fingers digging bruises into Jack’s shoulder. “Come on, I won’t break— Fuck. Me.”

Jack made a sort of strangled sound and proceeded to pound into him. His orgasm was building, fast and hot, deep in his spine, and he could feel his cock stiffening. But he held back. 

Just a little longer. 

He loved making Rhys come with just his dick. 

It would be worth the wait. 

And,  _ Christ,  _ was it worth it. 

He came with a shout. Pleasure cracking like a whip through Rhys’ body, across his nerves, going rigid in Jack’s arms. He clenched around him. No doubt deliberately, the fucking bastard. And another sharp wave of pleasure shook Jack to the core. He ground into his ass until the aftershocks began to slow. 

Rhys sagged into him, and Jack gathered him into his arms to deposit him into bed. He used Rhys’ t-shirt to half-ass clean him up. It’s not like they didn't own the company and couldn't get 500 new fucking shirts in .02 seconds. Later, when his kitten had some energy, Jack knew he’d wash up appropriately. Right now, he just needed to sleep. 

Jack did the same, wiping off his chest and stomach then crawled into bed. After dismounting his arm, Jack dragged Rhys into him, and then he blinked hard, feeling the tangle of feelings in his chest tighten suddenly around his heart as Rhys’ legs tangled with his. 

One sock-covered toe lightly trailed along Jack’s calf. 

“Love you, handsome.”

“Love you too, kitten.”

**Author's Note:**

> ~~I have obvious tropes/kinks & I think I should apologize for that~~
> 
> As always, thanks for reading. ♥️


End file.
